The Journal of Impossible Things
by AspiringAuthor23
Summary: I have been having dreams…They are nonsense, but I cannot shake some significance that they bring to my mind. So I have decided to write them down in this journal. The Journal of Impossible Things. Set in Human Nature. R&R!
1. Prologue

**A/N: So I was watching Human Nature this morning, and it got the question in my head of: what **_**did**_** the Doctor write in the journal of his? This first chapter is going to be done by memory because I'm at school, so sorry if anything's wrong…They should get longer, and the entries will follow the series…**

I have been having dreams…  
>They are nonsense, but I cannot shake some significance that they bring to my mind. So I have decided to write them down in this journal. The journal of impossible things. They are quite impossible—the things described in this journal could affirm the idea in many men's minds that I am quite daft, not entirely sane. Maybe I am not.<br>But I cannot get these out of my mind, though I know it isn't sensible in the least to dwell on them—they are only fiction. I have never met most of the people in them, and those who are in them are those I know fairly well. Blue Police Boxes do not travel throughout time and space—we cannot even travel through space yet. Yet I can hardly erase thoughts of it from my mind. It plagues me, distracts me, from everything I do.  
>Even during the day, my dreams are in the back of my mind. I need to get them out, so I can focus on my students, as well as relationships and other such things.<br>This is where they will be recorded.


	2. The Time War

**A/N: So my last author's note is probably more accurate starting in the next chapter…I'm doing this without rewatching because one, I don't really have time to rewatch the first two seasons, and two, it'll seem more as if it were a dream—because you never truly remember your whole dream. Even if you're a Time Lord in disguise. And also, I know that in Human Nature, the Doctor says that he wrote down his dreams as fiction, but to write this story the way I want to, it'll be more like a cross of fiction and a diary/journal. Again, these are going to get longer as I get into the actual episodes. So I hope you enjoy! **

Before I detail these dreams—which often seem too real to be dreams, but I digress—I must say that in them, I am not of this world…

I often dream that I have two hearts. That I am from a world far off in the stars. There is a blue box in them, a box that takes me wherever I wish to go, and any period in time I wish to visit, I have the ability to.

When my dreams first began, I had just escaped my home. A terrible war had erupted between my people and another group, metal beings with spokes that killed.

Everyone was murdered. The world was in ruins, houses in shambles, dust wherever one looked. Children were dead. It seemed as if the terror would never end.  
>Some of these stories in my mind have caused me to wonder if a point could be reached that it would be better to murder every human being, rather than allow them to suffer. And it seemed that in my dreams, I had a much different opinion.<br>I believe in hope. No matter how terrible something may get, there is always a way out.  
>But the man in my dreams, who I shall refer to as 'the Doctor' (that is what others call him, though I am sure this is not his true name) does not seem to share this view.<p>

I—or he—sacrificed his entire race to save himself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I was running.  
>From a large Citadel, I was racing the demolition. Beside me, my friends, my family, fell, as I simply kept sprinting, an unnamable technology in my hand. What must have been a gun from that world was in the other, and I periodically shot the other race as they flew above my head. The sound of death and bloodshed was everywhere. It infiltrated one's ears, one's eyes, one's entire being. I had to get away. To end it all.<p>

I could see the blue box ahead of me, protected by some technology. It sat with other boxes in a secluded area of the landscape, as though unimportant. But I knew they weren't.

As I approached them, the sound of the war muted itself minutely—I was far away from the main fight. However, it was still loud enough for one to be left deaf afterward. Now I know that I could still hear only because it was a dream.

Pushing open the door to one of the boxes, I ran in, discarding the gun and rushing the unknown technology to the middle apparatus, which looked somewhat like a type of console. Wires sprouted out of it, and I attached them to the technology, though I am not sure now how I did it so meticulously. But no, it was a dream—all things are possible in them.

I did not have time to reflect on what I was doing. All my friends and family, all those I did not know who were still alive, would be dead. I would be dead. The silver trees. The orange sky. The mountain ranges with red grass. All of it would be gone forever. But if I did not do what I was meant to do, the war would continue. The other race would continue to kill, and once our race was gone, they would go on to kill all other races—though I am not sure what other races my dream self was referring to.

I turned the switch that would cause all the warriors, as well as our planet, to fall out of existence. It was either us or the whole of reality.

And as I began hearing explosions, I heard the sound of the blue box as it brought me to safety.

I simply wanted to return, to die with the rest of them. Without my planet, my family, friends, there was no reason to go on.  
>But no, as I left the box, I recognized the planet I had visited before. Green grass, blue skies, with no idea of what had just happened millions of miles away.<br>It hit me just then. That everything I had ever known was destroyed. I would never return. I slammed the doors as I returned to the blue box, and braced myself against the console, tears I had not noticed on my face.

Then I noticed the reading on the technology that had caused it all. A terrible fear seeped through my veins as I realized what had happened—radiation from the apparatus could not be stopped from spreading through the box unless I gave it a week or so—and I brought my hand to my face, noticing a gold colouring in it.  
>All I can recall after this was an immense pain that caused my dream to end.<br>I remember waking up screaming.


	3. Rose

My dreams have morphed into something new, a story of less tragic origin but of a lost man, the last of his kind.

Taking place only a few days after my last accounted dream, I had learned that a certain animal of sorts—one I found suspicious, though I do not know why—was in London, and I was attempting to find it. Something about it had led me to a store, a place with mannequins all around, mannequins that were moving, walking around ominously as humans do.

They were walking towards a girl. She was young, not wearing the fancy garments of today—I highly believe that this is set in the future. But she was panicking. I knew I had to stop them, that I was needed to use my technology to stop some signal from reaching them. However, I ran in, grabbing her hand, and said "run."

She was beautiful, the girl. Yet she was just a fabrication, a girl to play a role in my dreams of madness.

We ran. She ran to her home, after I told her my name, as I took some technology I had put together, and threw it into the building, myself still in it. It exploded, but I somehow escaped. This seems to me to be something that happens quite often in these dreams. I never die. I rarely obtain injuries. It is curious…

Nothing of importance happened afterwards, as my dream skipped to the next day, following a signal on some technology I had to a flat—though I am not sure how I came by that word. I suppose my dreams supplied it for me. As I scanned the mailbox, the girl from the day before opened the door. Inside her home, she still had an arm from one of the mannequins, an arm which came to life.

Before this, however, I gained the first glimpse of myself, a bald man with large ears. I wore much leather. Thus far, I can tell that in my dreams, this Doctor is rarely afraid. Only on his home planet so far has he been truly terrified. He is calm. He is a hero, one that I would never want to be. He has gone through so much.

I saved the girl, Rose. But then I disappeared once more into my blue box, and my dreams faded once more.  
>The next scene from this dream occurred in a restaurant, with myself ultimately murdering a mannequin that took Rose's friend's place. He, in actuality, was closer than a friend, one who loved her, one who she loved. I took her to my blue box, the box that was much larger on the inside, something that awed her. We traveled across the city in only a moment, arriving near a large wheel in the middle of London.<p>

We learned that the animal-of-sorts that was controlling the mannequins resided underneath this wheel, and after being attacked due to its belief that we were there to murder it, the liquid I possessed in order to do this if needed slipped, causing the animal to disappear. The Doctor did not feel much, if anything, towards it. He was not sorry. And for this I worry that this man, in my dreams, is me. He does not look like me or think like me, yet we are the same. It worries me. And, I suppose, that is why I write this journal. So that these dreams do not haunt me.

Afterwards, Rose decided to travel with me.

And this is where she becomes a constant in my dreams.


End file.
